Teenage Kidnappers
by LainellaFay
Summary: Harry Potter finds himself kidnapped by a sneering blond and a bushy haired witch. Alternate Universe. Slight DMHG.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, all rights belong to J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N:** I decided to try something and here it is. I plan for this to be a short multi-chapter. Maximum 10 chapters maybe, probably less. We'll see. Also, since this was a rather spur of the moment type of idea, updates may be slow. I am working on other stuff on the side and entering University in a month (which will be a whole new sort of mess and headache), so bear with me, please. Thank you.

**Note:** This is an Alternate Universe. It is set in Harry's 6th year.

* * *

**One**

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There were two children who did not enrol into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy.

.~.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Harry struggled in his bonds as he spat at his abductors.

As strange as it seemed, neither of the two bothered to spare a glance towards their captive. Were they that certain he could not escape? Harry sneered in their direction. In his past five years of schooling, Harry had his fair share of kidnapping, duels, and Death Eaters, but this—this was something else altogether.

After all, his kidnappers were _teenagers_.

Twisting his hands behind his back, here and there, in hopes of loosening the bonds, Harry observed the boy with shocking platinum blond hair rifle through stacks of papers. He was dressed in Muggle clothing, armed with a sheathed sword hanging on his right hip, and if it weren't for the wand peeking out of the pocket of his trousers, Harry would have thought him to be a Muggle.

"Harry Potter," the blond said with a tone of revulsion. He had turned to face Harry and Harry saw a sheet of brown, aged paper hanging from the tips of his slender fingers. "The miraculous Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry snorted at the statement. _Of course_ they wanted to kidnap him; sometimes he wished he didn't receive such a title and was a normal boy—or well, wizard—like everyone else.

"Are you working for Voldemort?"

The blond merely raised an eyebrow at Harry, but overall ignored his question, tilting his chin at the bushy brown haired girl sitting on the chair, her head buried in the large tome on her lap. Like the blond, she was dressed as a Muggle but the only visible weapon Harry could see on her was her wand.

"Granger," the blond drawled, "are you _sure_ this worm is the _'hero'_? He seems like a useless dimwit to me."

"Everyone seems like a dimwit to you," the girl—Granger?—said in exasperation. She shut the book on her lap and placed it on the table behind her with a loud _thunk_. "Besides, he has the scar."

"How would we know he didn't just carve one on his forehead so he can be mistaken for the _real_ Harry Potter?"

"I'm _not_ an idiot!" Harry snapped. The scar had given him more problems than good, _why_ the ever living fuck would he give himself that bloody stupid _thing_.

"Don't be silly, Draco."

Harry was getting angry, he could _feel_ it bubbling inside him. The fact that _they_ knew how to tie up a captive so well wasn't helping either. "What do you want with me?" he asked once more.

The Granger girl finally—_finally_—turned to look at him. "What do we want with _you?_" She shrugged and continued, "Nothing really."

Harry felt his jaw unhinge.

"It's more of what the _Ministry_ would do _for_ you," the Draco boy finished.

"I don't understand."

Harry saw the blond roll his eyes in frustration. "You're sure Lord Dum-Dum didn't fry his brain when he was a baby?" the blond asked the Granger girl. When she clicked her tongue, Draco turned back to Harry and said, "Kidnapping, ransoms—I'm sure you've watched movies before to understand what I mean; seeing how rumours said you grew up in the Muggle world."

What caught Harry's attention was the term 'Lord Dum-Dum'. "You're not working for Voldemort?" he asked with a hint of surprise.

"You don't see me going around calling someone _Dark Lord_," Draco growled. "Argh, idiots."

"The Ministry wouldn't pay the ransom for me," Harry said, remembering Umbridge and her tyranny at Hogwarts last year. "You're wasting your time."

"Oh?" Granger blinked numerous times. "According to the prophecy, you're the only one who can defeat Voldemort. What makes you think they wouldn't give up an arm and a leg to get you back?"

Harry inwardly groaned. Did _everyone_ know about the prophecy?

"If you're thinking you can trick us with the _'no one cares about me'_ act, think again," Draco sneered. "Besides—"

Harry stared in shock.

"—the Ministry isn't the only one we sent the demand to."

"What do you mean?"

"We mean," Granger inputted, "_Voldemort_."

"You _are_ working for Voldemort!" Harry roared in rage. "Are you Death Eaters? Do you have his mark branded on you?"

And then he was silenced by the Granger girl. Harry couldn't help but be impressed by her non-verbal spell.

"You're giving me a headache," Draco groaned, rubbing his temples. "Just sit there like a good little boy hero and you'll be free as soon as we get our money. Who will be the one who acquires the Boy-Who-Lived? Who knows. Up to your luck, Potter."

.~.

Harry sat fuming. It had been a few hours and the silencing spell had yet to be lifted—who knew that Granger girl had such powerful magic; most silencing spells usually lifting in an hour.

It was probably night time, because the girl was dozing on the desk while Draco stood in the corner twirling his wand, keeping a watch on their captive. Harry gritted his teeth. Why couldn't they let their guards down like earlier in the day? They definitely _weren't_ keeping an eye on him before.

He had to stifle a sigh however. Not that it mattered because he still could not free himself from the bonds. It made him wonder whether they were experienced with these type of things.

Serial teenage kidnappers kidnapping other teenagers. Harry nearly scoffed at the thought.

Suddenly, a blast of fire zoomed past him and Harry felt himself being pulled up, chair and all. Draco was right in his face and Harry cringed back, looking around the room and saw everything on fire. He opened his mouth to question why but no voice came out. Right, the silencing spell.

"Granger!" Draco yelled and the girl jumped, eyes alert and wand out.

Harry didn't have the time to register anything else before he was sucked into the familiar stomach-swirling sensation of a side-along apparition.

.~.

"What was all that about?" Harry spluttered out when the girl finally lifted the spell.

"Well," Draco's eyes were as sharp as daggers, "_someone_ didn't want to play fair."

Harry sincerely hoped it was Dumbledore to the rescue.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This idea wouldn't leave my mind! I did not mean to update so quickly, but don't get too used to it.

Also, thank you for all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted. I cannot express how much I appreciate these little things, but just know that I love it and you too.

* * *

**Two**

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He was in another hideout or something. Harry wondered who _exactly_ his kidnappers were; not everyone can have two or a dozen hideouts like _they_ seem to have. It didn't look very different from the previous one however, and Harry suspects that they planned it that way—don't let any prisoners get any sniff of a clue as to their whereabouts, he reckoned.

"I have to pee," Harry voiced, causing the two before him to halt in their actions. He didn't, which was surprising, because Harry was certain that it was more than a measly three or four hours since his abduction, but maybe if they let him use the bathroom, he'd be able to find a way out of there. It was a classic move in all action movies, and from Harry's experiences, sometimes even the most classic of all classic moves works wonders.

"No, you don't," the Granger girl said incredulously. Harry narrowed his eyes and wondered whether she was using Legilimency on him; he'd read about that particular spell in Hogwarts' library during his fifth year, after having Voldemort in his head while he slept. Harry was about to argue that he certainly _needed to_ and if she didn't let him out _now_ he was going to piss all over the floor and sucks for them because _they_ would have to clean it up when Granger continued, "I cast a charm on you while you were unconscious. It prevents you from needing to use facilities like the toilets or having to sleep, or even eat. It transforms your body into some form of self-sustaining system, so to speak."

"Eat!" Harry squeaked.

The Draco boy exploded into laughter, clutching his sides as he bent over. "The dimwit's finally starting to use his brain a little. Taking tips from movies now, are you? Unfortunately for you Potter, you're up against two geniuses. Some other half-witted kidnapper you can probably fool with that little old trick, but not us."

Granger tutted. "Your conceited side is showing, Draco."

_Side_? Harry wanted to scoff; half irritated, half angry that his plan didn't work. That meant that the Draco guy had a _non-conceited_ side? Hell would probably freeze over before the blond became humble, Harry thought, remembering the insults Draco hurled his way. Not to forget the self praises too. Really, they weren't hard to miss.

"You know you like it." Draco flashed a grin towards the bushy haired girl.

Were they siblings? Lovers? Harry had to wonder, shuddering at the thought of the two teenagers before him partaking in…

He inwardly shook his head.

Not exactly the right time to be thinking of trivial teenage drama, Harry. The spectacled boy sighed, receiving stern looks from the blond. He sure wished magic allowed him to communicate with Dumbledore telepathically; maybe _then_ he might have been in his Hogwarts dormitories playing Exploding Snap with Ron by now.

.~.

"So…what's your name?"

Granger eyed him sceptically. "Why do you want to know?"

Harry shrugged, glancing at Draco who was sleeping in the corner; Harry couldn't fathom how the blond could sleep whilst sitting upright and not topple over and maybe crack his head open. "Just figured that I'm not going to go anywhere anytime soon, and since you seem to know everything about me, it's only fair that I know something about you too, isn't it?"

She didn't respond for so long that Harry was about to say _forget it_ and return to his mindless dazing at the ceiling when she spoke, "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Granger," Harry repeated, letting the name roll on his tongue. So Granger was her last name; Harry wondered whether 'Draco' was the guy's family name too, as weird as it seemed. "That's an…unusual name."

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose whoever named me was fond of Greek mythology."

"Whoever named you?" Harry asked. He thought he saw Draco's eyelids flutter for a split second but when the blond didn't move, he put it off as him seeing things. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know my parents, you see."

"Oh," Harry replied solemnly. "I guess that's something we both have in common."

"But you know your parents. Everyone does. Lily and James Potter; they're almost as legendary as you—_almost_, you see, they didn't have a prophecy that they'd be the saviour of the Wizarding World but they _did_ play a part in the creation of one. They're mentioned in every book about you."

"Yeah, then you must know they _died_ before I could even talk!" Harry exploded, and he felt the chair he was bound to rock on its legs. The air seemed to sizzle with energy. Hermione seemed stunned by the sudden burst of magic and Harry panted, shifting his gaze to his lap.

"At least you know who they are—their names, age, face, friends. I don't even know whether 'Granger' is my family name or just something someone made up on the spot, what my parents' names are…" Hermione said softly, so softly that Harry nearly missed it. "All I heard is that they were dentists."

"I—I—" Harry fumbled for words, "I'm—I'm sorry."

She shook her head. At that exact moment, Draco stood up from his slumber and made a few gestures Harry couldn't understand to the witch.

Harry shut his eyes. He probably shouldn't have said anything. Curse his mouth!

.~.

"How long are you going to keep me for?"

"As long as it takes."

Harry groaned. He found himself still unable to look at Hermione in the eye and berated himself for being too inquisitive. But habits were habits and Harry was still itching to find out more about his two teenage kidnappers, especially the platinum blond haired boy who _now_ Harry realised seemed remarkably familiar—not that he could put a finger onto it. Deciding to save that for later, Harry tried to calculate the number of hours he had been captured but found himself unable to do so.

Well, at least they haven't tried to kill him yet.

But did they _have_ to eat those delicious smelling curry buns right before his very eyes?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I'm sure you've noticed that I've been posting up short chapters. Well, usually I prefer long chapters myself, but these short chapters allow me to churn out updates quicker as I don't have to worry about meeting some word count and all that which stresses me out and I just...stop writing. If I'm in a good mood, or just unusually enthusiastic about writing, chapters may get longer and longer - who knows?

Also, I'm going on a holiday in a few days and I'll try to post up chapter four before that, but no promises. I probably won't have the time to write much for a month or so because I'm going to be living away from home for University and things will definitely get hectic.

Well, I'm going to stop rambling on about my life now. Please proceed.

* * *

**Three**

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A silvery phoenix swept into the room. Harry gasped as he recognised the patronus while the other two teenagers stared at it in awe and suspicion. Harry noticed that even in shock, the two were armed and ready for a fight.

_"Harry—"_

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed with glee. Did Dumbledore find him? Was he going to save him?

"Dumbledore?" he heard Hermione whisper.

_"—how are you doing, my dear boy? The Ministry has kept a tight-lip on your disappearance. The Order is working on bringing you home. Stay safe, Harry—" _Then, the patronus spun around to address Harry's abductors. _"—I can sense you're not servants of Tom Riddle, if so, I urge you to release Harry at once. The fate of the Wizarding World rests on the boy's shoulders. Make the right choice."_

The phoenix slowly faded away into nothing.

"What in Merlin's balls was that thing?" Draco shouted after a few minutes of silence. He'd stuck in wand under Harry's chin and Harry glared defiantly back at him. "What did you do?" Harry saw a vein popping on the pale boy's face and inwardly gloated; maybe he can rile Draco up enough that he'd make a mistake and Harry can escape.

However, the moment was lost when a gentle hand rested on Draco's arm.

Harry saw the boy visibly deflate, his anger and irrationality leaving him from the single touch. Draco lowered his wand and took a step back. No words were needed. Draco nodded at the witch and Harry felt his arm being grasped, the unwelcoming feeling of side-along apparition overtaking him once more.

.~.

They certainly were a paranoid bunch.

Harry glanced around his new metaphorical cage and once again, it was eerily similar to the first and second before. "Why'd you move me?"

"Safety precautions," Draco replied with the roll of his eyes, huffing as if he was speaking to an idiot—which Harry suspected he _did_ think that way. "I don't know what the old coot did—"

"He's not—"

"Headmaster Dumbledore is a respectable man, Draco," Hermione interrupted Harry's retort. "He took down the Dark wizard, Grindelwald, and ended the First Wizarding War." Facing Harry with an apprehensive frown, she continued, "You're on friendly terms with your headmaster? Isn't that kind of improper? _I_ definitely wouldn't do something that could compromise the integrity of my standing in the school."

"Yes, Granger," Draco said irritably, most likely upset from being interrupted and chided earlier. "You can dissect _good old_ _Dumbledore's_ and dimwit Potter's relationship later. We have more pressing matters to address. Like what that sodding thing was!"

Harry saw Hermione bite her bottom lip and nod at Draco's words, compressing that curiosity of hers for their sick mission. Harry secretly hoped they would get into a big dispute and he would have a chance to find an escape route while they were distracted and divided, but deep down, he knew that the likelihood of that happening was close to nil. They didn't seem like the power-hungry Death Eaters who would trod over each other's bodies to gain the favour of their precious Dark Lord; no, they were a team, not individuals.

As they glared at the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry squeezed his lips tightly shut.

.~.

"It's a patronus," Harry answered, sulking that they managed to threaten an explanation out of him. Whether they would follow through with it or not, Harry did not want to stick around to find out. Not that it was a secret or anything; he just wanted to feel better knowing something that the two didn't—after all, _he_ didn't know their entire plan whatsoever. Plus, they kidnapped him.

"Of course! The Patronus Charm! So _that's_ how they look like!" Hermione clapped her hands together, jumping up from the stool, and bounded over to the bookshelves, a twinkle in her eye. Pulling out a thick hardback, she flipped through the pages before pressing her hand down on the one she was looking for. "It's a powerful charm and also exceptionally complicated. Not surprising Dumbledore would be a wizard capable of such magic really. It is said that dark wizards are incapable of successfully conjuring a patronus because it relies on a single happy memory to work; sounds fishy really," Hermione wrinkled her nose in deep thought, "I'm sure even dark wizards have something happy in their lives."

Harry scoffed. As did Draco. Harry raised his eyebrows at the motion.

"You think too highly of others, Granger," Draco said, striding over to the girl and peeled the book out of her hands. "Not everyone has a fluffy unicorns and rainbows memory for _this_ spell to work." Then, softly, nearly silently, he added, "You didn't."

The blond scanned his eyes over the text and breathed out slowly, his fringe flapping from the expulsion of air.

"They're unable to track down the location of the receiver. Good, no one found out our location after all. But either way, none of that shiny sparkly wishy-washy magic of yours and _friends_' can enter our premises now," Draco proclaimed with utmost confidence.

"What makes you say that?" Harry challenged, wanting to take the blond down a notch or two.

"We're protected by the Fidelius Charm, Potter; not that you'd have heard of it, with that teensy-weensy brain of yours." Draco's face contorted with vile glee, "That patronus of theirs wouldn't be able to sniff out our location to pass anymore silly little messages."

Harry's eyes widened at the mention of the Fidelius Charm. It was very advanced magic, the only time he heard about that particular spell was the one over at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. There was _no_ way these two managed to pull it off. No way.

"You're serious about this," he said instead.

Draco raised an eyebrow, stuffing the book back into its original place—on the cluttered bookshelf. "Did we give you any indication that we weren't?"

Harry had nothing to reply to that.

.~.

"You tried to learn the Patronus Charm?" Harry asked, the first question he directed to Hermione ever since…_that. _Draco had disappeared off somewhere and Harry was left alone with the girl, who was hunched over reading a book on her lap; she always seemed to have a book in her presence, Harry realised.

"Yes," she answered, her lips pursed. "A long time ago."

Harry shifted as best he could in his bonds; his body felt strange, slightly numb—he'd been in the same position for way too long. Two? Three days? Maybe more? It was an odd sensation. Not painful, Harry thought—at least some sort of consolation for being kidnapped—_yet_.

So engrossed by his discomfort, Harry nearly missed the question she shot at him, "Do you? Can you conjure a patronus?"

Harry stared right into her soft brown eyes—vibrating with the thirst for knowledge. And if there was only one thing Harry knew, it was that a thirst for _anything_ often led to one's demise.

"Yes. Yes, I can."

.~.

_"—teach me!"_

_"—out of your bloody mind, Granger?"_ Draco seethed, an arm shooting up to point a long, pale finger at Harry, who sat in his chair watching the scene before him with interest. "I'm not giving him his wand so that you can _'learn'_ how to do some useless magic!"

Was this that big dispute Harry had stricken off his list of opportunities? If he didn't think his head would be lopped off immediately, Harry would have laughed. Because despite how it seemed, it wasn't. They were arguing, yes, but their attention hadn't left him. He'd tried moving the chair with his bounded feet earlier and ended up with the tip of Draco's sword aimed in between his eyes, a few strands of his raven fringe falling onto his lap—cut by the sharp edge.

Harry supposed it was a blessing he was placed under the spell, for he would have wet his pants if he could.

"He's not going to be able to escape, Draco. I'm not an idiot. Do you think I'm incapable of restraining him? All I want is for him to show me his patronus, that's it. He'd need his wand for that," Hermione huffed in exasperation. "Besides, we have all these precautions in place, how _can_ he escape? Or did you forget that on your _'walk'_?"

"What are you insinuating?"

"Oh, is there something for me to insinuate?"

"_Granger—"_

"You're not the boss of me, Draco!" Hermione snapped, cutting off Draco's growl. "We're _partners_!"

"And that's precisely why I'm telling you _no!_" Chest heaving, Harry observed Draco shut his eyes, his mouth moving silently as if counting down to cool down. "You're not thinking this through, Granger."

"I am—"

"No, you're not!" Harry stared at the door, wondering how many steps it would take him to reach it from his position. "Do you remember who he is, Granger? Lucky boy saviour Potter who defeated Lord Voldemort as a _baby_. Are you really going to test the limits of his—" Draco's face scrunched up in disgust "—_luck_ for some stupid spell?"

Harry had removed his adoring gaze at the exit to watch the scene fall out once more. Hermione opened her mouth and closed it, before falling into a pensive mood. "You're right," she admitted after a long while, almost reluctantly. "But—" she sighed "—this might be my only chance."

Draco sighed as well and placed a hand on her slumped shoulder; a small act of comfort. "I know. I'm sorry." A pause. "Granger…let's suppose _Potter_ can teach you; do you think you have the appropriate memory to conjure a patronus yourself? You didn't forget, did you?"

Her faltering inhale forced Harry to stare down at his lap, away from the pair, remembering the words she had spoken: _"I'm sure even dark wizards have something happy in their lives."_

Was there an underlying meaning in there somewhere?

* * *

**A/N:** Not fully satisfied with this chapter, there's like _so many_ contradictions, but this is the best I can do for now. May be subjected to further editing.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hi all! I'm back. Warm greetings to new readers who followed/favourited! But what is with University, 'cause I'm totally lost. Horrible time to find out that I've forgotten _everything_ from high school-oops, my fault, entirely. But come on, weekly tests? Surely that's absurd. And textbooks are like ridiculously gigantic and expensive, like what. Oh no, too many complaints. Such is life.

Holiday was fun. It's over. I'm sad.

But anyways, chapter four!

* * *

**Four**

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"There's something of importance we have to discuss."

Harry locked gazes with the blond, who sat backwards on a chair much like Harry's without the ropes wrapping all around, firmly. "If it doesn't include you releasing me, then we have nothing to discuss."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop saying the obvious, Potter, you are boring me. It's like you're stealing lines from a Muggle movie." Folding his arms on the top of the wooden backrest, Draco leaned forwards, the chair balancing on its two hind legs and said, "It's about that little titbit your precious headmaster bestowed onto us."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Looks like the Ministry's unwilling to play the game we set up so nicely, leaving the job of your rescue to the insane old man and his order of the whatever; it seems they need a little…nudge." Draco's smile was wicked.

Harry barked a laugh. "Torture? Is that what you're going to do? Not much different from those idiotic Death Eaters you insulted before now, are you?"

"You keep proving to me more and more that you're a numbskull, Potter." Draco looked extremely irritated. "Your value to society also doesn't seem that…_fascinating_ at all; the Ministry's dumping the job to the old coot, and Lord Dum-Dum's cheating from the get-go. They could have just paid the price and you'd be delivered on a golden plate within the hour but noooo! They decide to prolong it." Looking at Harry with a raise of an eyebrow, he asked, "You're sure you're the Boy-Who-Lived, yes?"

"No."

"Oh, look. Dimwit Potter knows how to joke."

Draco tilted back and let the chair fall down on all four legs. He slid off the piece of furniture and stalked out of the door, only to be replaced by Hermione a second later.

In the silence, only broken by the rustling of pages, Harry concluded that he very much preferred the brown haired witch over the snarky blond anytime.

.~.

Harry squirmed. The bonds had finally got to him and lingering pain overtook the numbness. Hermione peeked at him from an eye before returning her attention to the book before her, as if certain that, no, he was not escaping, okay, the book's more interesting.

"Hey. Her—Gra—" Harry stumbled over words, uncertain how he should address her, not being familiar enough to call her by her first name, and also unsure whether he should even start calling his kidnappers by their names rather than _you bastards_ "—Hermione Granger," he finally settled.

"What?"

"My arms hurt."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Untie me?"

Hermione looked him over, biting her bottom lip as she contemplated. If it were Draco, Harry knew without doubt that the blond would simply laugh in his face and tell him to suck it up, but Hermione…she was different. He just _knew_.

And he wasn't disappointed.

Hermione stood and circled him, muttering under her breath. Finally, she came to a stop in front of him and took a few steps back. Accompanied by an incantation, her wand swished up and down and Harry was free to move his limbs any way he liked for the first time in days. He had been so pleased by the feel of his blood circulating freely around his body that he hadn't noticed the bars surrounding him until a minute later—his metaphorical cage instantly transforming into a literal one; Harry felt like an animal on exhibition at the zoo. He hated zoos; the encounter with the snake was something Harry wished to keep as a one time event—not that he didn't enjoy watching Dudley taking over the snake's place in the glass chamber, but breaking a deadly animal out involuntarily with magic and creating havoc around the crowded area wasn't something Harry Potter liked.

He hated being the cause of problems. Period.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed to come hand in hand with the damnable scar on his forehead.

Harry reached forwards, about to wrap his hand around a single bar when Hermione yelped, "Don't touch it!"

Snatching his hand back faster than you can say 'Quidditch', Harry stared wide-eyed at the witch.

Visibly relaxing, as if calmed by the knowledge that Harry wasn't going to experiment some kind of hand-to-metal-bar action, Hermione explained, "They'll give you a nasty shock if you come to contact with them. I'm sorry, I didn't know how else I could let you free from the restraints without letting you free from…you know, everything." Brushing her hand over an old, tattered book, she continued, "I'm sorry, I didn't think about the discomfort from remaining in a single position for long periods of time. Although I'm sure there are spells for that matter—" she rattled off, lost in her own world.

Harry sighed. It didn't seem as if she would be a very pleasant conversationalist anytime soon.

.~.

"Granger, how the fuck do you work this—oh," Draco announced his presence with a loud voice and the slam of the door. He had been juggling with a device in his hands as he stepped into the room before spotting large addition to the interior. "Your work, Granger?"

"Obviously," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

Harry crossed his arms and he slouched in his chair, glaring daggers at the blond. Draco looked at him up and down before smirking. Harry scowled.

"Well, this is better than I'd imagined. Saint Potter all caged up; vulnerable, hopeless, _captured_." Draco tossed the device to Hermione, who protested with a sharp yelp and _'careful with that, Draco!'_ and it was in her gentle hold that Harry realised that it was a camera. One of those big, professional ones that photographers use. Harry retained his glare as Draco stepped forwards, sticking his head right at the bars. "The Ministry can't hide news like this once it's been circulated around the public."

"Why don't you move your face an inch closer and get electrocuted," Harry sneered.

Draco recoiled like a spring, spinning his head around to question Hermione. She shook her head in reply to the silent query, "I altered the spell. It won't affect us, only him."

"How convenient," Harry drawled, put out that his taunt wouldn't work.

"And _that_," Draco snidely remarked, "is the difference between us and you."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco ignored him and turned to Hermione, gesturing with his hands. They had a silent conversation with flailing hands that Harry spectated but did not understand. He rolled his eyes again.

It wasn't until Harry felt himself being strapped to the chair yet again that he yelled, "Hey! What was that for!"

"Oh, shut your trap, we have things to do and people to see," Draco said. As Hermione moved around the blond with the camera hanging off the strap around her neck, Draco continued, "Granger, why don't we do it like those Muggle mugshots? Get him to hold a card with his name on it and that _fancy little title_ of his to show to everyone. It'll be funny, yes?"

"You're having too much fun with this, Draco."

"Come on, don't be so stiff."

"Let's just get on with it."

"Get on with _what_?" Harry asked, struggling. He eyed the camera in the bushy haired witch's hands as if it was some kind of exploding device. After having been friends with the Weasley twins for more than five years, Harry learnt the hard way that _everything_ could be a torture—oh, rephrase that, _pranking_—device.

"A photoshoot," Hermione answered, lifting the camera up to her face. Standing silently for a few seconds, she lowered the camera and said, "Draco."

The blond raised an eyebrow.

"Can you do something? He's snarling non-stop at you and it really doesn't suit the idea of vulnerability."

"That's your polite way of asking me to leave."

Harry smirked with Hermione nodded. The blond sent icy cold daggers with his eyes at the gesture, but a frown of the witch sent him stomping out of the room. When all was still, Hermione apologetically smiled at him. "Sorry. Draco can be a little bit…overbearing."

"Wow, you're exaggerating."

She sighed. "Look, I know he has quite the sharp tongue, but really, he's not a bad person."

"That coming from a kidnapper about _another_ kidnapper." Hermione pursed her lips and Harry immediately felt a wave of guilt fall upon him. She had been rather _nice_ to him throughout this whole…ordeal, aside from the fact that she did play a part in his kidnap. He didn't apologise, however, because he wasn't wrong. He wasn't.

"Let's get this over with."

That conversation coming to an end, rather, it hadn't really started, Hermione started snapping pictures from all angles. Harry tried his hardest not to look at all _vulnerable_ as they put it.

It was rather hard considering he was tied up to a chair sitting in the middle of a cage that electrocute only _him_ should he come to contact with them.

Nonetheless, he tried.

* * *

**A/N:** I like writing Draco. I love it. Because I _get_ to be mean and nasty in the dialogues, and I love it terribly. Why? _I don't know!_ Harry needs to be more sassy or well, sarcastic. I'm trying to work that out. Chapter five all written up, needs editing, will post when I finish chapter six, but if I don't finish the sixth chapter, chapter five will still be posted by April. Peace.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** To my lovely guest reviewer Goose: No idea whether this is a flame, or plain curiosity. But, does it have a plot? I sure as hell hope so. But the straight answer, yes. Yes, this has a plot.

To next lovely guest reviewer Guest: Thank you! The reason for the kidnap-for-ransom...I have a plan for it. No, it won't be revealed within the next two chapters. It might never be revealed actually, because of the whole, why would they openly tell everything to their captive and all, in my opinion, they've already given _way_ too much information for normal kidnapper/captive situation. But if it does, it won't be like direct, most probably hints towards it-most likely in a sequel however-yes I did not plan for a sequel originally, but things happened and now I think a sequel will work to tie up loose ends.

And a warm welcome aboard to new readers!

* * *

**Five**

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.

.

Draco flaunted their 'masterpiece' at Harry, whilst Hermione watched on, shaking her head at her partner's antics.

"The wonders of Muggle technology," Draco said. "A picture caught in the split second your dispiritedness showed itself. If we simply relied on wizarding photos…" He shook his head, tutting. Eyes gleaming, the blond cracked a grin. "Now, I wonder who'll take the bait this time."

"Maybe Dumbledore will trace it right to me."

"What do you think, Granger?" Draco asked, ignoring him.

"I'd rather not jump to conclusions."

"If Lord Dum-Dum has an ounce of a brain, he might realise that this is the better option." Draco tilted the glossy picture in his hands. "Or, the public riots and the Ministry has no choice but to pay the ransom. Granger, bets on who's quicker."

"Stop fooling around, Draco."

"Aren't you worried about the fate of the_ Wizarding_ _world_ if Voldemort wins this war?" Harry asked, annoyed by the fact that they were joking around with him being offed by Voldemort or whatnot.

Everyone tensed. One could feel it in the atmosphere. Hermione had stopped swinging her legs from where she sat on the chair by the desk and Draco's grin had changed to a grim line.

"That's…none of our concern," Draco finally answered. "The Wizarding world can fuck itself sideways for all I care."

Beside him, Hermione wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself.

Harry gritted his teeth. Standing as close to the metal bars as he dared—Hermione having removed his bindings after that vicious photoshoot—he asked, "You're Muggleborns, aren't you?" At their lack of reply, he pressed on, "You _know_ what this war is about. You _know_ that Muggleborns are the first ones on Voldemort's hit list. How can you say that it's none of your concern? You'll die! And so will everyone else if you let Voldemort kill me!"

He didn't like playing the _hero of the Wizarding World_ card, but desperation knows no bounds.

"I won't tell the Order anything. So let me go, please?"

"The fate of the Wizarding World is not our business," Draco scoffed. "We can live with the Muggles all fine and dandy, like how we have for years, not like the rest of you…unadaptable wimps you call magical folks."

"Do you think even the Muggle World is safe? Voldemort _hates_ Muggles," Harry muttered.

"He can't conquer the _whole_ Earth." Draco rolled his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he said, "Leave your heroic tendencies to your foolish friends. _We _are _not_ them."

"Draco," Hermione intervened. "Get on with the distribution. We're not here to taunt Potter."

The blond gave her a side glance, before he briefly nodded. He paused for a second to sneer at Harry before striding out. Harry smiled hopefully at the witch after the unbearable wizard left the scene but she simply looked at him with unshaken eyes and Harry knew he'd lost.

.~.

Bored out of his mind, Harry squatted and picked at the wooden floor boards with his nails.

Not a scratch was made.

.~.

"You know, normally I'd be fearing for my life from whatever torture you kidnappers usually come up with, rather than suffer death from boredom."

Draco looked at him incredulously from his position at the furthest most corner away from Harry. Then, schooling his features, the blond raised an eyebrow mockingly, "Been kidnapped much, Potter?"

"You don't even know."

"I do, as a matter of fact."

"Oh great. Joy," Harry said in a monotone.

"I can have you screaming if you so desire, Potter."

Harry scrunched up his face in disgust. "No thanks. Gross."

He saw the way it took Draco a few moments to let it sink in before the blond glowered. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter." Harry rolled his eyes. "Fuck, where's Granger?" Draco murmured to himself. "I can't deal with this fucking nincompoop—"

Harry pursed his lips. "Yeah, I would very much prefer Hermione too," he said flippantly.

Draco's eyes narrowed to slits. His self-ramble immediately coming to a stop. "Why," he drawled, "Saint Potter getting all chummy with his enemies. I wonder how much The Daily Prophet will pay for that little bit of news."

"Are you?"

"_What?"_

"Are you? My enemy, that is."

"What do you think, Potter?" Draco snapped.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. Staring at the blond straight in the eyes, he said, "I hope not."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, before slamming it shut. After a few seconds of inner debate, the blond finally snarled, "Well, you hoped wrong."

Harry was silenced for the rest of the day with a series of quick _Silencio_s.

He's _really_ starting to hate that charm.

.~.

"So what school do you go to?" At Hermione's blank stare, Harry further explained, "You know, like Hogwarts or something. Other magical schools?"

"You're a nosy one, aren't you?"

Harry lifted up his finger, ready to argue that _no_,_ he was _not but sighed in resignation.

Hermione grinned at her win but answered his question with a no.

"No?"

"No, we're not enrolled in a magical school."

"Wh—" Harry spluttered. "W—ho—how, why? Huh?"

Hermione smiled mischievously.

"But you're _Muggleborns_," Harry finally whined pitifully, the best and most coherent sentence he'd managed to form in a few minutes. Waving his hands frantically in the air, he continued on with a babble, "How do you even_ know_ about all _this_ then. _I_ didn't even know magic was _real_ until Hagrid came knocking down the door and then Dudley grew a pig's tail, and and and—_how_ can you _not_ be enrolled in a school? Aren't Muggleborns sent like a professor or something to _explain_ _everything_ to their parents so they don't think so or whatever are loony—"

She shrugged. "I guess we missed that memo."

"—just _not possible_," Harry finished lamely.

"You're standing in front of living proof." Hermione spread her arms wide, giving him a smug little smirk. Her actions reminded him so much of the intolerable blond that he had to suppress a shudder. Yet another reminder that _yes, they are working together_. No matter how _friendly_ or _accommodating_ Hermione seemed, she was his _kidnapper_.

But enemy?

Kidnapper, yes. But as Harry observes the bushy haired witch, he simply _cannot_ think of her as his enemy. Indifferent to the fate of the entire world, sure, but he didn't think they'd actually outright _murder _him. _That_ Harry can keep repeating to himself—a way out.

.~.

"Scared, Potter?"

"No," Harry deadpanned.

"_Jesus Christ_, Draco! Get that bloody rat out of here!"

.~.

The day Draco burst into the room, eyes gleaming, wide smile on his face, Harry knew he was going to be disappointed. Severely disappointed.

"Panic! Chaos! Havoc!" The blond cackled maniacally. "The Ministry's going to be overthrown at this rate!"

"It's over?" Hermione asked, standing from her perch on the chair, book left forgotten on the table.

"Soon," Draco said firmly, his words holding an unspoken promise. "Soon."

Harry felt the sinking feeling of dread in his stomach. Right down to his very toes. He can't seem to explain why.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter 6 is done, which I just spammed while neglecting all my assignments. Again, same thing. Will post once I finish chapter 7, or latest in April regardless of whether I've completed chapter 7.

Uni is killing me. What the hell is this.

Bye for now!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Dedicated to my friend, Tasmin! :)**

**Also, on a side note, apparently badgering me to update works. So. Mm. But that kind of only applies if I'd _finished_ the chapter so. Yeah.  
My resolve sucks. I'm sorry.**

Guest: Your question will somewhat be answered in this chapter. As for Dumbledore and Voldemort, the Fidelius Charm is a nifty little spell like that :)

* * *

**Six**

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.

.

"Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!"_

Harry surveyed the damage from his tiny spot in the cage. To say that it reflected the aftermath of a hurricane was an understatement; no, it was like the Earth had curled up and choked and puked out a big, fat, hairy fur ball with spikes like a porcupine—not that Harry would know what _that_ would look like, but he had a vivid imagination and loved metaphors, sue him.

A loud crash and what was left of the chair Hermione always sat in disintegrated. Draco, still swearing left and right like a sailor, looked as if he was going to tear all his hair out in rage. He should, Harry thought, it would make a funny sight, and boy, did _he_ need a laugh. After all this…crap he's been through.

"I take it didn't go very well," Harry quipped, which was warranted with a wand aimed between his eyes.

"You. _You._ Shut your trap. This is all your _bloody_ fault." Draco's grey eyes were crazed, _murderous_ even. The blond curled his lips into a sneer, as if finally acknowledging Harry's presence for the first time in three hours, ever since he stomped into the room and started destroying the place.

"How can anything be _my_ fault? In case you lost your memories of the, I don't know, past _weeks_, I've been trapped in here by your lot."

Draco's sneer grew. His wand never swaying, he hissed, "What is it about you, _Potter_? What do _you_ have that makes people so _foolish, _so _righteous_?" Circling the cage while spitting at Harry like a snake, Draco continued, "They don't just want you back you know, Potter. No, they're not satisfied with that. They're not satisfied with having you whole and alive, no, not at all. They _have_ to have the _'bad guys'_—" Draco spat those words mockingly, but Harry barely flinched "—too."

"That's kind of in the Aurors' job description."

"I ought to make you suffer," Draco growled, and at the rate he was snarling and growling, Harry wouldn't even blink an eye if he transformed into a teething puppy at that very moment.

"Doesn't that go against all your morals?" Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "You know, however much morals kidnappers and the lot have."

"Fucking Potter with the silly scar. It's all the scar, isn't it?" Draco mocked, "I wonder what people will think of you without it. Oh. That's right. Nothing. Because that's all you are. _Nothing_."

"I'd rather be nothing than a dirty mongrel of a criminal who has a bloody name like a Muggle street thug! What the fuck is a name like _'Draco'_ anyway, huh? You go around introducing yourself as Draco the Dragon? I wonder who's stupid enough to take the bloody piss," Harry snapped, his patience clearly thinning.

"You don't fucking know what you're talking about!"

"I think I _know_ what I'm—"

"Everyone talks about _poor orphaned baby Potter._ Can't go to Wizarding London without hearing your fucking name. It's _always_ Harry fucking Potter. _Always_. Lo and behold, the boy hero who'll save us all! You always have it so easy. Everything always goes your way. You're so _confident_ with your identity, hell, _everyone's _confident about it. You don't know _nothing_, Potter."

Harry laughed, a laugh so chilling he could barely recognise himself. "You think my life is _easy_? You think I _want_ to be the 'one-who-saves-us-all'? My parents _died_, okay! Do you know what I'd give up just to see them? _Anything_. I'd give _anything_ just to see them once more. I don't _care_ about my fame or whatever shit I have, I'd rather be a normal boy like everyone else! I don't _want_ to be Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. I just want to be Harry Potter. Just Harry Potter."

"That's what I fucking mean, Potter." Draco was suddenly calm, so calm, it sent chills down Harry's spine. Because that wasn't normal. No one was this still, this calm, this…terrifying. "You don't get it, do you? Even after that incident with Granger." The blond shook his head. "You still don't get it."

"I know what I said." Harry stood his ground, no matter how many danger signals were being sounded at that very moment.

"Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter." Draco repeated his name _over _and _over_ again, so much that Harry thought he'd finally lost it, gone round the bend, when the blond doubled up with sinister laughter. "You're Harry Potter. You can say it so confidently. You know you're Harry Potter. Harry bleeding Potter. Me? Me? My life now, Potter. My life…is a joke. I'm a _laughing stock_, Potter. Oh, it's hilarious." The way he deadpanned the last sentence told Harry that no, it wasn't hilarious at all. Not one bit. "I'm sure you'll laugh along with the rest of the world."

"Not if I don't know the punchline."

"The punchline." Draco chortled. "Oh, that's gold. The fucker who wrote my birth certificate must have had a giant fucking laugh. You're interested, aren't you? Always such a busybody. I'll tell you." Leaning closer to the bars, as if telling a secret, Draco murmured, "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. What's better than giving the name of one of the most influential, pureblood fanatic, and _Death Eater_ families in the Wizarding World to a penniless little orphaned Muggleborn? Doesn't it just crack you up? _Malfoy_. Do I look like a ponce born with a silver spoon in his mouth?"

But Harry wasn't listening anymore. The moment the name 'Malfoy' left the boy's lips, Harry was struck with images of long silvery blond hair, very much the same shade as the boy's before him, the condescending sneer, and Unforgivable Curses. The uneasy feeling of recognition when he tried to figure out the identities of his kidnappers…could it…?

His head was pounding. Like someone was striking a nail through his skull with a hammer.

He didn't notice Hermione entering the room, gasping at the mess. He didn't notice her comforting touch and words to the blond. He certainly didn't notice the room spinning. He also certainly didn't notice his body colliding with the cold, unforgiving floor.

.~.

"You fainted."

Harry groaned, blinking slowly as the blurred image of Hermione started to focus. "I kind of figured that out myself."

"No need to be snarky." Hermione tapped her wand and a glass of water appeared in Harry's hand. He raised an eyebrow questionably and she gestured for him to drink. "I guess the spell took its toll. I've never read about a time limit for it in the book, but we learn something new everyday."

"So _now_ I can use that toilet trick?" Harry drawled.

"You wish. I'm setting it back on you in a bit."

"What a shame," Harry deadpanned. Setting the now empty glass down on the ground, Harry licked his lips—they were horribly chapped. "Draco. Um." His mouth was unbearably dry, even after just practically inhaling one glass of water. "Malfoy. He—"

"Don't call him that."

"—not a Muggleborn…" Harry finished weakly.

Hermione pursed her lips. She summoned the glass to her grasp and spun, her hair flying in all directions, out of the room.

The words _Pureblood_ and _Death Eater_ rang in the air.

.~.

Draco—no, _Malfoy_—carried it into the room, which was magically restored to its original state.

Hermione groaned from her seat. "You did _not_ bring another one back."

Malfoy frowned. "It was scuttling outside the perimeters. Just outside the Fidelius. I think…it's the same one."

Harry's eyes widened at the statement and he zeroed into the rat resting in Malfoy's palms. His breath hitched, his heart raced, his brain numb, his palms clammy…

Forgetting himself, and the curse placed on the bars of his cage, Harry slammed himself against it, arms reaching out, trying to grab—grab—no, the pain, he was burning—like thousands of knifes hurtling through him, cutting his skin, his flesh, his _bones_—

Harry screamed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

.

.

.

He drifted in and out of consciousness.

_"—the bloody hell was that?"_

_"I don't know! He just—"_

Hands were rough on his tortured body. Harry whimpered.

_"He's alive, oh thank god, he's alive."_

He felt the coolness of a healing spell being cast on him. Harry jerked out of the witch's arms, tossing his limbs around like a madman, amplifying the pain but he didn't care. Not when—not when—his ears were crying in agony from the sharp screeches that he would later realise came from him—not _when_—

_"—loud, shut him—"_

_"—threatened by something—"_

The—the—he tried to convey to them, but no matter what he did, only strangled screams emerged from his throat.

_"Fuck! Granger, the _rat! _You don't think?_"

_"An Animagus, of course!"_

_Cursing, groans, banging, stomping, magic…_

_"Petrificus totalus!"_

… …

His arm's being pulled. No, he's being dragged.

_"—knew you'd be a fucking deadweight, Potter."_

_"—breaking through—stall—hurry—"_

A sudden jolt. His arms fall uselessly onto the ground. Harry felt as if his eyelids were taped shut. His ears strained to listen but—no, his body was convulsing in—oh, the pain pain pain—

_"GRANGER!"_

Harry felt his body shutting down.

_"LET GO OF HER, FUCKER!"_

… …

He opened his eyes—finally—and saw the world on fire. Harry laid stomach down with his arms spread eagle, like someone had been dragging him and abruptly left him and disappeared. Then he remembered—Malfoy's shaky drawl, Hermione's panicked warnings…Malfoy's _scream_—

Something happened.

Harry clawed at the ground and scrambled to his feet, wincing and falling back down several times from the excruciating pain shooting through his entire body; he just wanted to curl up and _sleep_—sleep it all out, until he can no longer feel anything.

When he finally managed to hurl himself upright, Harry squinted at the flames and changed his previous thought.

Something's _happening_.

He took a step. Another step. One more.

Instinctively reaching for his back pocket where his wand normally rested, Harry found himself groping his butt and swore; he hadn't had his wand in weeks, was it nearing two months? Unarmed, Harry felt increasingly vulnerable with every step he took. All of his senses were yelling at him to _turn around and get the hell out of here_ but Harry ignored them, remembering, remembering—he shut his eyes, letting a wave of nausea pass, before continuing his slow pace towards the flames and he can _hear—_

"_Crucio!"_

The familiar din of battle.

Dark curses, protective charms; they were all being cried out and Harry felt sick to the stomach.

He took another step.

And then he saw.

Hermione's hair seemed to have doubled in size since he last saw her. She stood in the middle of a group of Death Eaters, outnumbered and pushed back, but she held firm and continued to defend herself, prolonging the inevitable. Not far from her was Malfoy, with his shining beacon of what he called hair, in the same position as she was, but with the length of his Muggle weapon which he held in his right hand and his wand, casting spell after spell, in his left, he succeeded in keeping a wider distance between himself and his enemies.

Further back—oh, further back—Harry saw Him. Standing cockily with his pet snake curled around his ankles, Voldemort watched the duel with a maniacal grin on his ugly-as-fuck face.

With a sudden burst of energy Harry didn't know he possessed, he flung himself right into the battle with a cry…

…only to be roughly shoved back.

Harry fell on his bottom, scraping his palms in the process, and immediately shot a glare at his attacker; a glare that fell within a split second when he learnt the identity of the wizard before him, shielding him.

"Harry!" Harry whipped his head around and saw Ron. He can hardly believe his eyes because Ron—Ron's _here_; he haven't seen his best friend in ages and he's _here_! "I'm so glad you're alright, mate." Ron was grabbing his hands and Harry can hardly _stand_ because he was in so much shock and just _gaping_ and— "Harry, come on, let's get out of here!"

And then he noticed.

The Order. Tonks, Moody, Kingsley…_everyone_.

They're here.

They're _here_.

He stood, gripping onto his best friend's hands, in the middle of a fucking battlefield, with said best friend in hysteria trying to get him to _move, why the bloody hell aren't you moving, Harry!_

He can't. _Can't_. He doesn't know what to think. After so long—so _long_—waiting and waiting and waiting for the Order to find him, to save him, they're finally here. And, and, and—Harry lets go of Ron and stumbled away, to where he last saw Hermione and Dra—_Malfoy_ fighting for their lives.

They're together now; Draco cradling an injured Hermione close to his chest, eyes cold as ice darting back and forth until they lock onto Harry's—stormy grey against bright green, for Merlin knows how long and Harry's breath hitched at the _sheer amount _of emotions he made out and Draco's wand swung down in an arc and they're _gone_.

Gone; just like that.

They'd come bursting into his life, or rather, pulling _him_ into _theirs_, as quick as lightning; so fast Harry couldn't do anything but follow and as quickly as they came, they were gone.

Harry felt clammy hands grabbing onto him again and he turned and it was Ron and he didn't know _why_ he expected to see Hermione's brown eyes light up in delight upon learning something new or even Draco's degrading sneer even though he _knows_ they're gone—he'd _seen _them disappear…

He didn't get a chance to dwell upon it, as Harry felt a familiar tugging sensation in his belly and he was portkeyed away.

.~.

"Muggleborns, you say?"

"Yes. No. I mean—" Harry stumbled on his words. "…I don't know."

"You don't know?" Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. With a sigh, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry rummaged through one of his desk drawers and pulled out a jar. "Lemon drops?"

"I—what?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. Dumbledore merely shook the jar in his hand. "Uh, no thanks, sir."

"Now, young Potter, what did you say their names were again?"

"Hermione Granger, and Dra—wait, I never told you their names." Harry stared at Dumbledore's twinkling eyes; eyes that Harry once thought was omniscient, like a God—Harry shook the Muggle thought away. He took a breath. "Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy; although they didn't seem to believe that were their true names."

"Draco Malfoy, you say," Dumbledore mused, drawing out the boy's name as if trying to savour the taste of it on his lips. "I did notice a young man who bore a striking resemblance to one escaped Death Eater at that battle, but alas, I was not in a position to have a closer look. Perhaps I should have one from another angle. Harry, may I?"

"What? Oh, um, yes, sir." Harry squeezed his eyes shut, pulling out the memory, focusing on it; not that it was quite that hard, still fresh in his brain, and somehow…the young hero didn't _want_ to forget it, didn't want it to sink down deep into the depths of his mind, sinking, so far down until it disappeared like all other memories after years past. He waited, reliving it, until Dumbledore's voice penetrated through his concentration, signalling its completion.

"If you'll just excuse me for a moment."

Harry nodded, and observed as the old wizard stepped to his pensive and vanished into the memories. He looked down, tapping his fingers on his lap to pass the time, letting a tune flow through his head, and before he knew it, he was humming along.

"Well, that's a Malfoy if I haven't seen one before."

Harry started. "You think so?"

"I know so." Dumbledore was grim as he sank down in his chair.

"But…_how_? The Malfoys never had a child."

Dumbledore shook his head, much to Harry's surprise. "No, Harry. It is not common knowledge, but the once, around the same time your own parents were blessed with you, the Malfoys had a child. They named him Draco." Harry's eyes bulged out. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry couldn't speak. Pitiful noises making their way up his throat.

"He was a stillborn."

"_What?"_

Dumbledore stood, and paced around his desk. He stood facing a glass cabinet filled with numerous trophies and medals with his hands behind his back. "It appears, Harry, that what we know are not always what it is." Suddenly, the old wizard spun, clapping his palms together with a grin. "It's getting late, Harry. You ought not to be out in the corridors after curfew. Chop chop, off you go to bed."

"Yes…sir…?"

* * *

**A/N: This brings the end to this story. There WILL be a sequel. No doubt to that. I know not of the title, neither do I know when it'll be published, but it will come.  
**

**I'm sorry if I've disappointed readers with the somewhat lack of DMHG. The sequel would have more. I promise. Like a lot more than this pathetic excuse of slight DMHG. As well as tie loose ends. There are many questions and many answers, indeed.**

**Maybe just a small spoiler: The sequel will be in Draco's POV. So yes, we'll learn much more of his and Hermione's background / relationship through that.**


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